Ascension (Facets of Feyrie Book 2)

by Zoe Parker

  We’re best friends, more than that. Not lovers—but so close. I have a feeling he’s waiting for me. If that’s the case, I need to get on that. I snort at my thought.

  ‘Anytime.’ The amusement in his tone is overshadowed by the promise.

  Shit! Eavesdropping bastard, who’s suddenly developed a sense of humor. Though it’s mostly bad humor, or in this case pervy.

  Blushing, I stare at the tip of a fingernail and picture a wall of singing smurfs. Why the hell am I blushing? Oh right, I know—because I have no idea how to have a semi-normal relationship with anyone. Because I’m a relationship moron.

  I wager he doesn’t know either.

  “You two are so awkward together. How entertaining,” my Dad teases.

  In response I elbow him in the ribs.

  “I know why Mom called you Captain Wonderpants, and unless you want me to tell everyone, you’ll hush,” I threaten.

  My Dad, showing where I get some of my sense of humor, throws his head back and belly laughs.

  “It’ll work out. I know he wasn’t honest with me about everything, but for some reason he wanted you to make it this far,” Dad says, patting my hand.

  “Who is this he?” I ask suspiciously.

  “The All-Father.”

  “Oh, him. Do you still believe in anything he tells you?”

  “He did make us, Iza. I imagine he only wants what is best for us.”

  “Actually, he didn’t make you,” Phobe corrects.

  Frowning, my Dad turns a little to face him, and I feel distinctly like a bone between two dogs.

  “Of course, he made us. He’s the All-Father,” Dad insists.

  Automatically my head turns to Phobe for his input.

  “He was there for your creation, but Eldest are all creatures of the Darkness.” That’s something I didn’t know. And, going by the look of shock on my Dad’s face, neither did he.

  Oh, shit.

  “You’re telling me that my entire belief system is a lie?” Dad demands.

  “Complete and utter bullshit,” Phobe clarifies.

  Wow, this is good. I wish I had popcorn or beef jerky to enjoy with this show. Suddenly, his face clears as if he realized or accepted something.

  “I’m off, Dove. Have a good barbeque. Save me some ribs; anyone’s will do.” Laughing at his own joke, my Dad drops a quick kiss on my cheek and disappears into nothing.

  That explains my wonky logic. I inherited it honestly.

  I hope he’ll be okay with the news. Dad is pretty dedicated to his ‘job’ even if he hates it half the time. I didn’t feel anger coming from him, and I can definitely feel it when he’s angry.

  More like calm.

  The Web inside of me chimes, reminding me of how busy today is going to be. Searching inside myself, I touch it. So many are coming. It’ll take weeks for all the Feyrie I called to get here, to the Sidhe. Even as I sit here, there are several on their way, including some that are legendary.

  Wouldn’t Jameson shit a dragon?

  Not all of those that show up will be about saving our people. Some will come because the summons is strong and they can’t resist it. Others, because they see a way to get some power or wealth.

  Idiots. Those ones should be worried about coming here.

  I’ll be their judge, jury, and executioner. This I know without a doubt. Only those deserving compassion will get it. I’m not Snow White, surrounded by singing dwarves. I’m the bad guy that will eat Snow White like a chicken wing and use the dwarves to mop up the gravy.

  The Feyrie need strong people, fighters. Phobe and I are two of those fighters. Some of the dragons, including Alagard, are fighters as well. That number, compared to what’s coming, is so insignificant—it causes me concern.

  But even if it kills me, which it probably will, I’ll fight for them. This has nothing to do with the stupid prophecy. It has to do with these people needing someone willing to defend them. Especially the ones that have no one else.

  I feel his eyes on me and look over my shoulder at him. I thought I was blocking him, but given the brighter orange color of his eyes, I’m not so sure. I think he has an issue with me dying. His eyes flash to lava. So, he does have a problem with it.

  The wall of singing smurfs returns. It doesn’t hurt to make him work a little. Damn mind reader. Although I’d kill to know what his thoughts are.

  A bit of mischief enters me.

  Letting the wall drop, I picture us kissing, throw the wall back up again. Let it drop again, picturing my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. Wall up. Wall back down. Picture his hands moving up to cup my face…. the wall falls for the final time. His hands move down my body over my breasts. His mouth…

  The sound of wood splintering draws me out of my daydream. Surprised, I look at the portion of the table in front of Phobe. It’s now in pieces, some of which are still in his clawed hands. He’s now staring at me like I’m a giant piece of steak and he’s starving.

  The Web within me twangs. Saving me from my own stupidity, and giving me a well-timed excuse to run away. Thank god.

  “Guests are here,” I squeak out.

  Soon, he and I need to talk about this. Just not today. I poke the tip of his nose and then climb to my feet and head to the edge of the trees.

  Looking at the Web, I can see that there are others on Sidhe land now, too. Keeping their distance, watching. Even more of them will be here within the hour.

  The next few weeks will be busy.

  ‘I am going to look,’ he says coming to my side. I look up at him.

  ‘Be careful,’ I tell him.

  He rubs his thumb across the small cleft in my chin, a quick caress that’s barely a touch. It’s an interesting sign of affection and I like it. Although I won’t tell him that. Honestly, who likes saying, ‘Oh, by the way, you touch my chin and it kind of makes me wanna see you naked?’

  I frown. Okay, I’ve watched a lot of TV here so there might, in fact, be someone who thinks that way.

  ‘I am not the one you should be worrying for, Iza.’ Then he wraps himself in shadow and is gone.

  “Jerk,” I mutter, turning back to speak with Jameson.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Phobe

  At the last minute, I detour to see the nearby Nightmares. They are not a threat to her, so I let my thoughts wander. The little shit pulled a stunt back there. If not for eons of control, I would have fucked her on the table, spectators be damned.

  To tease one such as I is a dangerous game to play. Especially for her. Because the next time I get my hands on her, I will not stop.

  My thoughts turn to more serious things. In her short life, she has survived and excelled at it. Overcoming everything thrown in her path. The thought of her dying—permanently—makes my stomach churn.

  Before, for her I was willing to destroy Death himself—my rage now will be apocalyptic. The realms-wide kind of apocalypse. I will destroy them all. The prophecy is not wrong about that.

  Then I will aim higher.

  Iza is significant to me. No, that word does not begin to do it justice. I dig in the memories of those that are part of me; I dig deep. Love? No, not enough. Obsessed, entranced, completely charmed? All of them?

  Frustrated, I shove the words aside.

  In my existence, I have had no need for such words. Or feelings. I have no idea how to use them or understand them. Absolutely cannot articulate them. Because before her I did not feel them.

  And now they refuse to stop existing.

  The Nightmares move closer, pulling me out of my thoughts.

  It has been a long time since this many journeyed out of the Dead Lands. In fact, not since they sought refuge there after the death of the first dark king who enslaved them.

  Iza’s call packs a punch.

  I can hear them just ahead of me, barely. That says a lot about their stealth. Sneaking up on me is hard and, until a certain distraction came into my life, impossible.


  She tends to distract me to the degree that can be dangerous in certain circumstances.

  Looking to the treetops, I see the massive shape moving above me. This, I did not expect: the original Nightmare herself. She stops above me as if sensing me. Part of her probably does. I drop my Magikal cloak and allow myself to be truly seen.

  The massive shape above me morphs and shrinks, changing from the shape that is identical to the tattoo on Iza’s back to something more humanoid. A rustle of leaves and then a woman, the Mother of all Nightmares, drops down in front of me. A strand of silver spider’s silk is her rope.

  I have not seen her for hundreds of years, and unexpectedly, she shows every one of those years. Her once lustrous flaming hair is streaked with gray, and her face bears wrinkles of the passage of time. Her skin is paper-thin and translucent, each spidery vein visible through its paleness. Her red glowing eyes are not as bright as they were with Magiks, but still sharp with intelligence.

  Why has she aged in such a way?

  “It is true,” she says softly, her words spoken slowly.

  I nod to her knowing, the meaning behind her words. Why else am I free otherwise?

  She smiles, and it transforms her entire face. Once upon a time, she was dazzling, and her legendary beauty lingers in that smile. “We have waited so long, and had almost given up until I felt her awaken the Web. The Dark is strong in her.” Her voice gains strength as she speaks.

  Keeping my attention on her face, I let my other senses seek out the additional creatures watching me from the shadows. Her children, mostly. Their Magiks are muted, almost nonexistent. My enslavement hurt them.

  Her aging? That is not so easily explained.

  “Tell me, creator, does she bear the mark? Is she the Heart of our Darkness?”

  I nod again.

  “It is very good then, very good. We have brought her tribute and hope she will welcome us as her guard. As we are destined to be.”

  It says a lot of things that they came to a world not their own to serve her, willingly. The first king kept them by force until his death. The others were too afraid to summon them.

  The Nightmares were fanatics at protecting the first King. Iza, their destined charge? They will burn down worlds for her.

  “You will not need to provide tribute. She is not like others,” I assure her.

  Auryn, the first Nightmare created, watches me with a stillness that hints at the spider she truly is. “She will get it just the same. It is meant to be given to her.” She makes a clicking sound with her mouth, and the others step into view.

  Eleven of them, all shapes and sizes. But one familiar face is missing.

  “Auryn, where is Licar?” I have a suspicion, but I do not voice it. Only one thing would keep him from her side.

  Her face grows solemn, her eyes filling with pain. “The schoth king sent blood locks. He was alone and lead into a trap.” Her eyes flash a bright red and then dim.

  That explains the aging. I study her closely. She is dying without him. It is amazing she survived this long. They were bonded by blood, by love. Their souls were intertwined.

  “Before you meet her, she has two rules. Kill no innocents and give mercy only to those who deserve it,” I caution.

  “We are the Guard to the Heart of Darkness, the WebRider. We live for her will,” Auryn proclaims, her fist on her heart.

  My head dips with respect. What she is proclaiming is important. Nightmares are exceptional fighters—dirty ones, too—loyal to a fault once it is given.

  Iza is going to love them.

  “She is awaiting your arrival. They have barbeque.”

  Auryn inclines her head and shoots upwards.

  Once again, the sound of a large body moving overhead breaks the silence. Iza has a soft spot for spiders. She saved them more than once in prison. That is the only bug she has any kindness for. Any other insect, and she tried to climb me like a ladder, screaming like a banshee the entire time.

  I bite back a smile. But the humor is brief.

  Now it is time to check on the shifters.

  The shifters are easy enough to find. They make enough noise to be heard for miles. Obviously not professionals in surveillance, most are sitting in cars listening to music and talking loudly.

  An annoyance.

  A quick count nets thirteen. This large a number is a little surprising, but their idiocy is not. All the vehicles hold occupants that are relaxed and uncaring, save one. I look closer at the car he is in.

  The man sitting in driver’s seat looks aggrieved. Easily put down to the woman beside him that is vehemently nagging about how uncomfortable the car is. I can hear every single word coming out of her mouth as clearly as if she stands beside me. He has more tolerance than me. They must be sexual partners. Why else would he deal with her?

  It will be unfortunate if she comes with him. If I spend too much time in her company, I will either cut her tongue out or eat her.

  I stay back in the shadows of the trees.

  My eyes are drawn back to the male, who is looking straight in Iza’s direction. This shifter feels the call more strongly than the others. Perhaps he is more pure blood than the others? It explains his behavior.

  My shadows creep out and slip through cracks and openings in the vehicles to touch each one of them. A smile tickles the corner of my mouth. Iza will not be happy about the lot of them. They are here to spy, to gather intelligence.

  Other than the single male, the rest do not care about Iza or her misfits. Instead, they are simply making a mess and a lot of noise. The ground is littered with their discarded food wrappers and drink bottles.

  No, she will not be happy at all.

  There is only one thing to do about it. Stepping out of the cover of the trees, I walk towards the cars. As I stop in the front of the car with the most rubbish around it, the conversations around me cease. Noses in the air, they are trying in vain to figure out what I am.

  Without a word, I bend down and grab the bumper of the car and flip the car backward. The sound of screeching metal and screams fills the air as it hits the ground on its top.

  “You have five minutes to clean up your mess before I beat you all to death with this car.”

  Iza is rubbing off on me.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Iza

  Behind me, where I stand with my hands in my pockets like a ninny head, they’re firing up the grills up and cleaning and setting more tables. The goblins had the foresight to bring roasting sticks and the stuff we need for making ‘smores.’

  I have no idea what they are, but one of the main ingredients is chocolate. Which means I’ll adore them. My stomach growls at the thought.

  It’s still early in the evening, leaving plenty of time for everyone to enjoy themselves. The entire population of the Sidhe is out here. Our little group of children is running around, chasing each other and laughing, some of them are free for the first time in their lives. Little Knox, my alpha puppy, among them.

  Too few of them, really. The Feyrie don’t have many children anymore.

  “Can I help?” I ask Kay, an imp who has been here for a lot longer than I have.

  Smiling, she ignores me and keeps busy, which translates to a big fat no. But I’m stubborn, so I keep trying to help. After taking my now—melted kitchen utensil away from me, she shoos me off, so I give up and plop myself on the tailgate of a truck to watch.

  “You break things. They all know this. But you’re also their Lady, so that on top of your wanton destruction of anything from the kitchen, they want you to not help,” Jameson supplies as he sits down on the tailgate with me.

  “Do all ‘Ladies’ get this?”

  He nods, stuffing a marshmallow in his mouth.

  ‘The Nightmares will be arriving within a few minutes,’ Phobe’s voice floats through my mind.

  ‘And the shifters?’ I smile. I’m not about to tell him I can eavesdrop on him using the Sidhe as my ears. Well, sometimes—it doesn’t
always work. And it’s an idea versus an actual insight.

  It’s frustratingly vague.

  ‘You are learning to work with the Sidhe. But you still have far to go,’ he says, not even bothering to hide the snark in his voice.

  I felt him doing something with those shifters. Not sure what, but I have a feeling it was entertaining.

  ‘The shifters at the borders are terrible at their jobs. But at least one seems to hear the call.’

  Then I feel the tingling of his presence in front of me. I look up into his eyes and frown.

  ‘I need to find out more information on this group,’ I muse.

  ‘For now, they are just watching you, but ultimately, they will do something that is going to piss you off.’

  I roll my eyes at him. ‘You’re such a…realist.’

  ‘Someone needs to be with you,’ he shoots back.

  Okay, so he has a point. I’ll let him get away with it this time. ‘Anything else?’

  He leans over me and steals a marshmallow out the bag Jameson is trying to hide behind his butt. Until recently, Phobe didn’t eat much food but I got him hooked on sugar.

  ‘If their ruler refuses to follow you, they will probably try to get rid of you.’ He says it so nonchalantly that I know he isn’t worried about it.

  I am, and it annoys me. I’m getting tired of people trying to kill me when I’ve only been at this for a few weeks.

  ‘It is a fact. Accept that, and you will not feel any more anger about it,’ Phobe chastises, wiping the crushed marshmallow off my hand with a napkin.

  I didn’t realize I smooshed it.

  ‘Kinda like when you broke the table earlier?’

  ‘I would say touché, but I want them to be afraid of how I react to things.’ The snark is back in his voice.

  Damnit.

  ‘I’m still learning how to control the Magiks. So it still influences my emotions. It sucks.’ Do I sound whiny? It’s possible, because I feel whiny.